


Enlightenment

by Ebyru



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Crack, Developing Relationship, Ficlet, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Intimacy, M/M, Realization, Slash, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:58:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ebyru/pseuds/Ebyru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha wants his happy medium.</p><p> </p><p>Excerpt:<br/>“Oh, that.” Misha grins stupidly, fluttering his lashes as he sucks at Jensen’s chin. “You shouldn’t have rocked into me, and I wouldn’t have let my hand roam longer than necessary.” He bites down neck, shoulder, tightening his hold on Jensen’s wrists when he moans. “Like that?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Enlightenment

**Author's Note:**

> Un-beta’d, and I think I looked at too many gifs of jibcon 2013. So, this happened. Not very long, mind you.
> 
> let me know if you find any annoying typos, etc.

There’s a part of Misha that loves the vulnerability of being flat on his stomach, pressed into the mattress, while Jensen licks him open. And the other part – louder in his mind – prefers to be rough; scrape his fingernails across Jensen’s scalp as he locks his head in place between his thighs, where his mouth bobs up and down on Misha’s cock.

He’d like to find a happy medium, if possible. Jensen said he doesn’t care either way; likes being squeezed desperately, and likes making Misha squirm to escape the pleasure, but—

Misha wants his happy medium.

 

 

 

After they dance, flirt, touch each other and practically grind on stage, Misha decides he knows where his happy medium is.

 

“You’re a fuckin’ tease,” groans Jensen, his hands pinned above his head as Misha slowly rolls his hips.

“I helped you get your clothes off, didn’t I?” Misha leans in to nuzzle the side of Jensen’s face, darting his tongue out to lap at sweat.

Jensen jerks when he feels teeth dragging across the stubble on his jaw. “Goddammit, I meant at the convention.” His voice is breathy and growly; one step away from a verbal onslaught of profanity that makes Misha’s toes curl every time.

“Oh, _that_.” Misha grins stupidly, fluttering his lashes as he sucks at Jensen’s chin. “You shouldn’t have rocked into me, and I wouldn’t have let my hand roam longer than necessary.” He bites down neck, shoulder, tightening his hold on Jensen’s wrists when he moans. “Like that?”

“F-fuckin’ _do_ something. I feel like my skin is peeling off!” rumbles Jensen, tilting his head back so Misha can suck at the skin of his throat. “I have to get up early tomorrow for another panel, you know.”

“Do you?” teases Misha, leaving a shiny trail from throat to collarbone with his tongue. “I wasn’t aware of that. In fact, I think you’re lying, pretty boy.”

Jensen snaps his hips up against Misha’s with every word that follows. “I – am – not – a – pretty – boy – anymore.” They both pant into each other’s mouths when Jensen leans up to suck a bruising kiss onto Misha’s already swelling lips.

Chuckling, Misha tilts his head and ducks away from the next kiss. “I think you’re in denial,” says Misha. “I think you’re a pretty princess looking for her glass slipper.”

Biceps twitching to break out of Misha’s hold, Jensen says through his teeth, “You want me to show you how wrong you are?”

“Oh, I know you’re not--”

And Jensen bucks up against Misha with intensity and precision. Misha can’t help but push down, but also push against Jensen’s boiling point with _fuck, god, yes_  and _Cinderella, you’re so naughty_ , just to make him grind their cocks together harder. Jensen rolls his hips like he’s oil and Misha is water: they mesh just barely, but the slip of them together is a sensual battle. With another unfathomable circle of Jensen's hips, a hurricane-sized orgasm begins to build at the edge of Misha’s skin - and he wants Jensen to be right there with him.

He brings their mouths together in a fumbling kiss, twining their fingers in the way that always makes Jensen’s cock jump against his hip. They suck at each other’s mouths until kisses become simply touching lips, gasps, moans. Their grunts of pleasure grow in number and volume, and Jensen even manages a few coherent _fuck, Misha,_ _your cock’s so wet_ , among other filthy little triggers that he uses.

And in the end—

 

In the end, it’s easy for Misha to find the answer he was looking for:

Jensen squeezes each of Misha’s palms, screaming out his name with awe more than animality as he comes between their pressed bodies. It’s only a moment longer of Misha rutting, and he’s tripping right along with Jensen, over the balance of safe and  towards ecstasy. His mouth seals over Jensen’s pulse point, swallowing his cry there to feel the racing rhythm of Jensen’s pulse and ignore his own release. Their hands are tangled for a while longer.

After climax, Jensen is the most pliant man to ever live. He even lets Misha draw monkeys and angel wings into the splattering on his stomach. Then they fall asleep, and Misha dreams of doing it all over again.

Glad to have found that Jensen – with his great, white smile; pouty lips; piercing stare; and laidback charm – is the centre of all this insane need.

 

 _He_ is the happy medium.

**Author's Note:**

> comments appreciated if you have time. :)


End file.
